


Open Door

by 144_bees



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 08:57:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15815649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/144_bees/pseuds/144_bees
Summary: It does no good forgetting who they are, both individually and to each other. Lee tells herself, not for the first time, that getting closer to Barbara can only end in ruin.





	Open Door

**Author's Note:**

> Just gals being pals having a one on one because these two don’t get enough of those imo
> 
> Inspired by a prompt "You’d be a great mom"

Lee isn't sure if Barbara is drunk or just delirious from the pain. Knowing her, it may be both. The woman always went hard on so called self medication but these days Lee honestly is in no place to judge. Regardless, whenever Lee's eyes stray from her work, she finds Barbara's gaze glazed and unfocused. It's unsettling to see a person usually so full of manic energy be this lethargic.

It's not strictly necessary to keep Barbara awake, she doesn't have a head wound, but Lee feels an itch to break the stuffy silence anyway.  
She lightly taps the injured shoulder.

"Never going to hear that story, am I?"

Barbara's head lolls to the side, gaze slowly climbs Lee's face until their eyes meet.

"Like you care? Same shit you'd expect anyway... nothing to write home about."

In her woozy state, Barbara's thought process is entirely too easy to read and her last words make her pause, frowning slightly. Lee wants to ask but shelves the thought and gets back to bandaging the wound.

The injury is your regular fare for those enjoying a life of villainy, but it must hurt nevertheless.

Barbara hums, then asks, abruptly.

"Remember when we met? The little therapy appointment?"

"Lot of good it did."

"Well," Barbara tries to shrug, but stops with a hiss. "You know what they say. Wrong time, wrong place."

Lee frowns at blood seeping through the gauze. "I don't follow."

"You don't have to play dumb with me, Lee... I'm not a guy, my ego can take being your equal."

"I always got the impression you looked down on me, actually."

Barbara snorts, no hint of her usual coquettish airs.

"What, for taking Jim? That's not much of an achievement."

"He was always easily distracted..."

Sharing a smile with Barbara feels surreal but maybe fitting too, considering their position. Lee can pretend all she wants, but this never was a standard doctor patient relationship and Barbara's half naked and pliant under her hands. That takes a certain kind of trust.

Of course, they are hardly friends or even allies.  
Barbara wages petty wars and raises hell. Lee does her own thing, trying to salvage what's left of the Narrows in wake of citywide destruction. Sometimes their paths cross and when they do, it's different. Both have too much going on and lack incentive to keep their little feud alive. 

Their time together used to be so volatile, Barbara always reaching for the nearest sharp object, Lee doing her best to break away and stay away. Now, in Gotham on the brink of collapse, they share a glance, a nod and go their separate ways. Lend a hand when beneficial. Compromise for mutual gain. On one particularly memorable occasion, they shared a drink. In lukewarm silence; they never really talk. Or haven't before.

"Enough about him," Barbara makes a sour face. "Nothing ruins the mood like good old Jim."

The mood in question is a quiet thing. Barbara's less chatty than usual, perhaps sobered by the pain. Lee's glad; it bothers her how comfortable their shared moment's getting. It does no good forgetting who they are, both individually and to each other. Lee tells herself, not for the first time, that getting closer to Barbara can only end in ruin.

The silence breaks ironically echoing her thoughts.

"You’d be a great mom," Barbara says apropos of nothing and Lee freezes. 

Her chest feels heavy with a familiar mix of fear, fury, sorrow, all in one. She doesn't know how Barbara found out but can't believe she let it slip out now, of all times. Can't believe she dared.

Lee considers doing something, hitting Barbara maybe, ripping off the bandage. But all these things are ultimately pointless and won't make her feel better anyway, so she doesn't.

Then, it dawns on her.

Barbara's staring into space, face slack. She doesn't seem to be looking at Lee at all, in fact. Suddenly, unbidden, that night from years ago comes to mind. How empty Barbara's face was when she talked about her parents' death. It may have been a trick, but there was something raw among the wide eyed lies. 

It seems Barbara's not talking about Lee or her lost child at all. There is a hint of something personal on the other side of the chasm between them, something hidden, festering just the same as Lee's own pain.

Lee wants to ask and so she does.

"What makes you say that?"

"You're.. present. Never anywhere else."

Lee ties the bandage off and, when Barbara makes no move to do so, gently helps her back into the sleeve, starts buttoning her shirt up.

"Sure about that? I get around."

Barbara shakes her head.

"You pay attention." Under her breath, "She never did."

It makes a sad kind of sense.  
Her whole life, Lee had this itch to dig deeper into people, get a feel of things that shaped them. And in Barbara's case, she was always all but screaming to be noticed. Literally screaming too. Since her so called awakening, however, Barbara got what she wished for. Her enemies, lovers, allies and all of Gotham's people now knew better than to ignore the vicious woman. Lee can't see what makes her attention special. And at this point, the careful hold on her curiousity feels silly.

"Why me? You make plenty of heads turn. People jump when you say «jump»."

"And undress before I even say the word," Barbara giggles.

"Can't vouch for that," Lee says, bemused.

"It's stupid anyway," The blonde frowns slightly. "Irrelevant. You... nobody else would do this," Barbara shrugs with the wounded shoulder, movement intentional despite the pain.  
"You are the only one who doesn't take my shit. All others fall for it. Or they don't care, tolerate it."

"To be fair, there's not much else to do when you're... acting up."

They both know what she really means is "being a bitch". Barbara nods, like Lee made her point for her.

"That. You would say that."

Lee sighs, exasperated by how talkative Barbara turned out to be, after all. This sudden honesty makes her squirm; Lee'd rather have her empty chitchat or stories of some escapades.

"So, let me get this straight. Your parents treated you like furniture so now you get in shootouts and get off on, what? Me pushing you around?"

Barbara's lips curl, and it's her usual slow sharp grin. A Cheshire Cat about to pounce.

"Wouldn't say we're quiet there yet... but no rush."

Her game face slides back with a wink. 

The moment's well and truly over. Lee steps away, lets Barbara gather her things and see herself out. 

They're likely back to square one. Barbara hates being seen as weak, revealing too much of herself to strangers. Which they are, no question. Lee tells herself the prickly feeling deep inside her rib cage is relief.

Just before she walks out, Barbara turns back and finds Lee's gaze. She's not quite put together yet, but Lee knows those cogs are already turning, and she will be very soon. Her many defenses rise up right before Lee's eyes and then, abruptly, stop. 

Time itself seems to hold breath as Barbara's face crinkles with an oddly crooked smile. It's nothing like the previous one, all rehearsed and smooth. The result is awkward, like a child's first step, and the prickly feeling grows, tugs at Lee, restless.

Barbara never closes doors. Just pushes them aside, an afterthought, leaving the rest to them. Thus, there is no note of finality to her exit, the door frame yawning with the corridor's dim shadows, click-click-click of high heels gradually fading away until it's gone.

Lee shakes herself, scratches her previous assessment. This is what they are now. 

Like it or not, there is a door, somewhere, that they cracked opened. And before Barbara left, she made it clear that what happens next is up to Lee. 

Lee sighs and weakly curses her curiosity because of course her mind's made up. 

She wants to follow.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!
> 
> first time writing for this ship as well as my first published gotham fic in general, so characterization pointers & feedback are much appreciated <3  
> 


End file.
